Confessons of a Workaholic - Luke Brandon's POV
by cumulonimbus cat
Summary: The first book - Confessions of a Shopaholic, but starring Luke Brandon's life instead of our beloved Rebecca Brandon neé Bloomwood's. New scenes, because after all, they're not together all the time in this book originally, anyway. Shorter, too. Hope you enjoy :)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

God, the queue is ridiculous.

I mean, it isn't too bad. There are two people ahead of me, an elderly lady sporting a shawl and an extremely… colourful young woman sporting all sorts of brand names. She's at the counter, taking forever to complete whatever transaction it was she is trying to complete. She seems to be searching her bag for something.

I tap my foot absently on the ground. What is taking her so long? I swear, she had already been in front of the counter for a ten minutes. My dark eyes follow her movements as she rustles around her red purse. I squint to check the label. Is that… _Prada?_

Honestly, the brand names are rip offs. You could get a perfectly good handbag nearly anywhere - I've seen way too many around - yet of course, instead all the girls go rushing to the store with the most expensive handbags - not necessarily the best quality, either. As long as it goes with their particular outfit and has a nice golden plaque with a well known name on it, they'll buy it.

Then again, I don't mind. Consumerism _is_, after all, an essential part in the economy. As long as _I'm_ not the one a thousand quid in debt, I don't care.

"I swear, it must be here somewhere…" the girl mutters as she rummages through her red bag. I can see the seams just waiting to pop apart.

To be fair, though, that bag _does_ go with her white shirt and beige pants quite nicely. Not the most practical outfit, with the easy to stain colours, but pleasant to the eye.

The girl triumphantly pulls a blue cheque out of her bag and latches it together again. "There!" she says with a winning smile. "I found it. Two hundred pounds." Her enthusiasm is catching.

The lady behind the counter gives her a cautious smile and slowly takes the paper from the girl's hands.

Seriously, how slow can they be?

"Sorry it took me so long," the girl chatters on as the lady tapped in a few numbers on her keyboard. "It's all blue and bland and really boring. It just blends in perfectly with everything else. Honestly, you can't blame me for taking so long to find a slip of colourless paper in a whole handbag of other… various things."

The lady gives her another tight smile. "No worries, Miss Bloomwood," she assures the girl.

"You know, I could probably find that cheque a lot more easily if it was in a brighter colour," the Bloomwood girl says conversationally. "Say, hot pink. It may not be the best colour but it most certainly stands out. Or maybe yellow or orange? Or red, to match my bag. Say, why _don't_ they make cheques in different colours?"

I frowned slightly, thinking about it. It wasn't a bad idea, actually. A bit tedious, but it would make cheques easier to find, wouldn't it? How was it that in the history of finance, no one thought of that?

"If you're truly concerned, speak to the manager about your ideas," the lady in the uniform says politely. She gives the keyboard another tap and looks up. "There you are. Now, which of your credit cards would you like me to put the two hundred in? Or, perhaps, would you rather have it in cash?"

_Please hurry up,_ I think impatiently.

"Put twenty on my VISA card," the Bloomwood girl says thoughtfully. The lady behind the counter begins to tap on the keyboard. "Ten on my American Express. Ten on the master card." She pauses and looks out the window.

I follow her gaze. Across the street was a boutique. Some boutique or shop of some sort. My eye lands on a huge sign with red block letters announcing to the world that there is a 50% OFF SALE TODAY ONLY. PRICES STARTING FROM £25!

Twenty five quid? That is a lot for… whatever it is they're selling. Was that a _scarf_? They sell _scarves_ at twenty five quid or higher? That was insane. Especially because that meant that those scarves at regular price were _fifty pounds._

"Let me have the rest in cash, please," the Bloomwood girl says breathlessly. "There's a sale across the street."

The lady politely follows the Bloomwood girl's gaze and nods. "So I see." She pulls out a couple of notes and hands them to the Bloomwood girl. "Rebecca, please know that you're overdrawn on four credit cards," the lady says politely. "You should probably pay that off as soon as possible."

"Oh, I will," Rebecca Bloomwood promises solemnly. "Just right after I get the darling scarf! Then, I promise, I will."

"It's been two months overdue," the lady says, to drive her point through.

Rebecca isn't paying attention, but nodding absently with her eyes still at the shop window. "Thanks for your help." She gathers her things, leaves the bank, and the line moves up.

Dear God, if the old lady takes this long as well, I might as well go back to the office to wait. There is a pile of work I have to get done before tomorrow, anyway.

Thankfully, she only takes a quick moment to withdraw twenty pounds and it's my turn.

"Hello Mr. Brandon. How may I help you today?" The lady smells like Chanel No. 12 perfume. Okay, so maybe I know my brand names as well. At least I don't go crazy over the smallest sale. Just a couple of suits - five at most, I'd say - and maybe two or three other outfits for other occasions, and maybe one or two pairs of shoes. Expensive, but not if you factor int he fact that I haven't bought any new clothes in a while, and haven't needed to either.

"Yes. I'm sure you have heard of Brandon Communications?" Inwardly, I swell with pride as I hear the words come out of my mouth. My own name and my own company. I've come far without the help of any… useful influences that I didn't establish on my own.

"I most certainly have," the lady says, beaming at me. "I hear it's the greatest new up and coming public relations firm."

"I'd like to make an arrangement with the Bank of England," I say in a businesslike manner.

"Of course, no problem," the lady says as she scribbles something down. "I'll leave the manager a note. No worries, he'll call you as soon as he can."

"Thank you, I appreciate it…" I pause to read her name tag, "Sarah."

"Oh, not a problem," she giggles.

I leave with a flourish and immediately head back towards my office. I've got work to do and not a minute to waste.

—

On my way home from the office - it's well about seven pm or so now - I stop by a magazine stand. It's always good to be caught up on the news, isn't it? And the tabloids, however unhealthy they are. As a CEO, I've got to keep my heads up for any and all warning signs. I grab a copy of the _Financial Times, Successful Saving,_ and _The Daily World_. As I pay for it, I flip through _Successful Saving _first.

A name catches my eye.

Rebecca Bloomwood… isn't that the girl who was taking forever at the bank line? And the one who suggested the coloured cheque slips, too. Hmm. I scan the article quickly. Something about investments and their worth… My eyes glaze over. I'll have to look at it in more detail when I get home.

Back at my flat, I make myself a cup of coffee and bring it to my home office. Even though I've left the office, I've still got work to do. Keeping up with the latest and predicting trends for the good of the company is hard work. I may have accomplished a lot by becoming a CEO and essentially being my own boss, but the work doesn't stop here. I've now got more responsibility than ever.

I sip the coffee and flip through the _FT_. I stop short and reread the lines. SGB planning on taking over many other corporations? Well that's just bad news for the industry. Although I could see it coming, though. SGB had been expanding itself recently. Good for them. I flip through the pages. Rumours… mostly surround SGB, a couple of the Scottish Prime… nothing important or of great notice… I hope the other companies are looking out for themselves. Okay. My eyes scan for other important words and phrases but I can feel myself getting sleepier and sleepier. Staying up until five am working and having to get up at seven to go to the office was definitely not a good idea. Maybe just a quick nap would do me a world of good…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"_Another_ press conference?" I ask with a sigh.

It had been about half a year since the SGB rumours started swirling, and now they were beginning to come true. I had hired and fired a number of public relations girls. Starting with Alicia Billington, who is quickly rising to the top of the ladder with her impressive performance. (I need not mention Susan Cleath-Stuart, the girl who was hired at the same time as Alicia. What was I _thinking?_ It was an absolute tragedy, however humorous. Okay, fine. It was pretty funny, her pitching for our competitors accidentally.)

"Yes. We're organizing this one," Alicia grins at me.

"I am utterly exhausted form all these boring press conferences," I say, as if I am letting Alicia in on a personal secret. "You'll be by my side to make sure I don't fall asleep, right?"

"I won't let you down," Alicia replies with a smile.

"Well, we'd better get going then. Come on." I grab my coat, breathing in the familiar scent of my flat, swing it over my shoulders, grab my binder of work thing, and walk out of the office, shortly followed by Alicia.

Alicia is my extremely hardworking and dedicated assistant. She has proved herself to be nothing but helpful so far and I think she is a great asset to Brandon Communications.

The two of us make it to the building in which the press conference is held. We follow the signs that say the Foreland Exotic Opportunities is happening in the Artemis Suite. It seems as though we have got itself quite a turnout. My stomach flips and I secretly pray that I won't royally mess up.

When we enter the room, everything is set up and a couple of people are milling around. I scan the couple of people for familiar faces, but I know none of them. I glance at Alicia, who's beside me and giving me the same look with that familiar glint in her eye.

"Ready?" she asks encouragingly.

"Please." I grab her hand and lead her elegantly to into the room.

As we go around meeting all the important business people, the room begins to fill. I look around and finally - familiar faces.

"Joe," I say with a friendly tone. "I'm glad to see you here."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Joe says in professional tones. He gives me a small smile. "And who is this?"

"This is Alicia Billington," I say, nudging her forward.

The two of them exchange a handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr…"

"Hamilton," Joe says pleasantly. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Billington."

Alicia laughs with ease. She's a natural at… well, meeting people and leaving good impressions. "Please, call me Alicia. Everyone else does."

"Alicia, what do you think of the recent rumours surround Flagstaff?" Joe asks, leaning in and lowering his voice. "I'm a bit worried, to be honest. It is my company, after all. Or at least, I work for it."

"I wouldn't be too worried," Alicia laughs. "It's not the best news, but we can easily work through it. And don't worry, your company made a great choice with Brandon Communications." She grabs my arm as she laughs again. "You're in great hands. Luke here is more than capable. Aren't you?"

I give her a smile. "Alicia certainly thinks so," I say to Joe. My eyes move past him and I catch sight of Rebecca Bloomwood from _Successful Savings_. "Sorry, pardon me, but I have a lot more people to meet," I say with a friendly smile. "Nice bumping in to you, Joe."

"You too, Luke," Joe replies. "And you as well, Alicia. Absolute pleasure."

"I'm glad to hear that," Alicia says respectfully as I pull her along to meet Rebecca.

Rebecca, as usual, has her eye on something across the room. I look across, expecting to see a big brand name, but no, instead I see Elly Granger from _Investor's Weekly News._ Hmm. I did not know that Rebecca and Elly were friends. I'd have to say hi to Elly right after this, I thought she was doing a marvellous job at her column.

As I approach the glamorously dressed girl, she still doesn't see either me or Alicia. I stand in front of her and watch as she brings a glass of champagne to her lips. Damn, I'd love a glass of champagne right now.

"Rebecca. Glad you could make it." My voice comes out deeper than expected. I look at her as she nearly chokes on her drink. She makes a quick recovery with a small cough.

When she doesn't respond, and instead gives my suit a once over, I feel the need to speak again.

"You know Alicia, don't you?" I'm quite sure they know each other. The girls I know from business matters somehow have magical ways of knowing each other. It baffles me but works just fine.

Alicia reaches out to shake Rebecca's hand, but when Rebecca doesn't offer it, Alicia settles for a sisterly like grasp instead. "Rebecca," she says with a professional air, "you're on _Successful Savings_, aren't you?"

"That's right," Rebecca says nonchalantly.

"It's very good of you to come today," Alicia says appreciatively. Honestly, the flattery that girl churns. It will get her places some day. "I know you journalists are terribly busy."

"No problem," Rebecca says carelessly. "We like to attend as many press conferences as we can. Keep up with industry events."

I stare intently at Rebecca. Her hands are fidgety, as if she was waiting for something. Behind her cool facade I feel like she's trying not to smile.

Alicia nods with the utmost seriousness. "So, tell me, Rebecca," she begins, as if she's about to unload a heap of gossip, "What do you think of today's news?" Sh gestures at the copy of _FT_ under her arm. I frown. That's my copy of _FT_. Oh, well. "Quite a surprise, didn't you think?"

I look at Rebecca, her expression calculating and her left eyebrow cocked as she looked to her upper right. Her eyebrows lift as if she just remembered what Alicia was talking about and she nodded numerously. "It's certainly interesting," she says with a smile. Her eyes dodge mine as she looks around the room.

I had a growing suspicion. She didn't know what we were talking about, did she?

"I have to say, I think it's bad news for the industry," Alicia continues, her eyes glued to Rebecca. "But of course, you must have your own views," she says invitingly.

Rebecca colours a bit and bites her lip, stalling. Both Alicia and I are looking at her, waiting for a reply. Alicia because… probably because she expects an answer. Me because I don't expect a proper answer. With Rebecca Bloomwood, it's always a surprise.

I crack a small smile thinking about coloured cheques. I wipe it away quickly, though. Better seem professional and businesslike for these things.

Rebecca opens her mouth and closes it a couple of times, eyes scanning the room desperately. "I agree with you," she says finally. "I think it's very bad news." She brings the glass of champagne to her lips again, and if it weren't for the fact that I very desperately wanted to stick around and hear how this conversation turned out, I would have slipped away and grabbed myself a glass.

"Were you expecting it?" Alicia says, clearly wanting to milk every word out of Rebecca. "I know you journalists are always ahead of the game."

"I…" Rebecca says, dragging the syllable out for as long as she could. "I certainly saw it coming." She smiles at us convincingly.

"And now this rumour about Scottish Prime and Flagstaff Life going the same way!" exclaims Alicia with vigour. I feel my mouth twitching as I regard Rebecca's expression. "Do you think that's really on the cards?"

I have to applaud Alicia. There is absolutely no way to be more vague about the topic than she is right now. Rebecca looks completely lost.

"It's… it's difficult to say," she manages.

I have to applaud her, too. The answers made sense and were somehow just as vague as the questions.

She brings the glass to her lips again, and this time takes a gulp of champagne. Her eyes flick towards mine and I can't do anything to stop my mouth from twitching as I try to hold in peals of laughter.

I got her desperate vibes, though. "Alicia," I say, turning to her. I gesture towards the door. "That's Maggie Stevens coming in. Could you—"

"Absolutely," Alicia replies with certainty, only too glad to be a help.

"And Alicia—" I say as she walks off. She turns and looks at me expectantly. "I want to know exactly who fucked up on those figures."

"Yes," Alicia says obediently. She walks off.

"Well," Rebecca says brightly. "I must go and…" she trails off.

I lean in. "SBG announced that they've taken over Rutland Bank this morning," I say quietly.

Realization dawns on her face which quickly rearranges itself into one of the most smug expressions I've ever seen. "I know they did," she says haughtily. "I read it in the _FT_." With that, she stalks off towards Elly's direction.

I shake my head after head and begin heading towards the table in hopes of getting my hands on a glass of champagne. That girl will never cease to surprise me.


	3. Chapter 3

Alicia at the front, speaking about our "exotic opportunities". At least, that's how they put it. As far as I can see, she's doing pretty well. The audience seems pretty engaged and I can hear a few whispers and page flips which, in this case, is usually a good idea.

I overhear Rebecca Bloomwood talking to Elly behind me. I glance at them reproachfully but it seems as if neither of them got the message.

"But I need money!" I hear Rebecca hissing. Her volume is rising dangerously. "I'm desperate! I need twenty quid!"

Alicia pauses as everyone turns to Rebecca. Her face burns with colour as she realizes that she spoke to loudly and everyone now knows she needs twenty quid for… God knows what.

"Perhaps you should have invested with Foreland Investments, Rebecca," says Alicia in clipped tones. The audience laughs quietly. I'm really coming to like Alicia.

"What do you need twenty quid for?" I ask calmly. Relax, Luke. You can handle the situation.

"I…" Rebecca says, thinking quickly. "My aunt," she declares. "She's in hospital and I wanted to get her a present."

The room is silent as I mull over my options. I can always help someone in the hospital… Besides, we need to settle this matter and move on. We're about to cover some important things I really need to hear other people's take on. I reach into my pocket and pull out a twenty quid note. I hand it to Jeffrey Parker from _Finance Basics_, one of the front row journalists and he hesitates before passing it back. Slowly, it makes it's way to Rebecca Bloomwood. When she finally gets it, the audience gives a respectful round of applause and Rebecca's face is burning again.

"Thanks," she says awkwardly. "I'll pay you back, of course."

"My best wishes to your aunt," I say politely.

"Thanks," she repeats, casting a glance towards the silent Alicia.

—

Frankly, the questions are getting kind of boring. I have to get back to work. I get up, take two strides so I'm next to Alicia and whisper to her. "Thanks for talking. You were great," I say. "I've got to get back to the office join me if you'd like, after the press conference? And take notes on the questions, I don't want to miss anything." Without waiting for her reply, I begin to head towards the door.

"Thanks," I hear Rebecca Bloomwood say as I pass her chair. I ignore her, cracking a tiny smile at the thought of her humorous interruptions.

Rebecca had interrupted before the twenty quid incident as well. There had been a part where Alicia was talking about Foreland Investments offering more, and Rebecca had offered her sage opinion which was "They charge more, you lose more."

Actually, not completely untrue and a very witty comment at that as well.

I begin to walk down the pavement. Maybe I'll go for walking today instead of riding that awful Tube. Sometimes it would stop in the most infuriating way and I'm trapped to do nothing but stare into black for the next couple of seconds. Besides, fresh air would do be good - _everyone_ is telling me that I work too much.

Which is not true at all, of course, but I suppose I could catch a bit of fresh air.

I walk all the way from one underground train station to another and feel a surge of pride. Take that, everyone who thinks I don't take leisurely time to have a nice walk.

Suddenly, in front of me, I see Rebecca walking out of some shop. I stop and look at her and her carrier bag. Is that a gift for her ill aunt?

"Rebecca," I say, frowning slightly. She looks flustered. "Did you get it all right?"

"What?"

"Your aunt's present," I say, gesturing at the carrier bag.

"Oh, yes," she says in a funny voice. "Yes, I… I got it."

"Is that it?" I ask, pointing at the bag. She reddens further.

"Yes," she says slowly. "I thought a… a scarf would be nice."

"Very generous of you." I glance at the label on the bag. "Denny and George." I raise my eyebrows. "Your aunt must be a stylish lady." Don't laugh, Luke. It's obvious that this aunt never existed. How come I hadn't thought of this before? Rebecca is a clever girl.

"She is," Rebecca says defiantly. She clears her throat. "She's terribly creative and original."

I have to agree, I think silently. "I'm sure she is," I say out loud. I pause. "What's her name?"

I can see her face, thinking quickly. "Erm… Ermintrude," she says.

"Aunt Ermintrude," I say thoughtfully. "Well, give her my best wishes." I nod at her and walk off, barely able to contain my laughter.

As soon as I'm out of earshot, I burst into peals of laughter. That absolutely made my day. Of course Rebecca Bloomwood would rather make up a story of an ill aunt than admit she'd buy a scarf for herself and needed to borrow twenty quid for it. Good at thinking on her feet, that girl. I've got half a mind to hire her as one of my PR girls.

From my pocket comes a buzzing. I bring the phone up and sigh. I really hope this isn't Sacha.

"Luke Brandon," I say shortly.

"Lukie!" Sacha's voice squeals on the other end. "How did the press conference go?"

"Well, I suppose," I say. "I left a bit early."

"Would you like to grab some lunch?" Sacha asks eagerly.

"I'd love to, but I'm not hungry," I say. I pause, searching for a better excuse. "And I've really got to get back to work."

"Work, work, work," Sacha drones. "That's all you ever do. Why can't you set aside time for your girlfriend?"

I sigh. "Fine," I say, softening up. "Lunch would be great. How about Café Rouge, in…" I glance at my watch and calculate. "Forty five minutes."

"Done," Sacha says. I can hear her smiling and involuntarily, a smile spreads across my face as well. "I love you Luke."

"Love you too." I hang up and look up. Is that Clare Edwards from _Successful Savings_?

"Luke Brandon," Clare says with a smile. "I take it your conference went well?"

"It did," I say graciously. "How are you?"

"I'm great," Clare says. "Couldn't be better. _Successful Savings_ is doing quite well, as you know. I have a few concerns about Rebecca's performance, but it doesn't seem to be dwindling so—"

"How is Rebecca, anyway?" I interrupt.

"She's doing well," Clare says, nodding and smiling.

"And has she got a boyfriend?" I ask.

Clare stops, taken aback. "I, um…" she says. "Well, I'll have to ask her… but I haven't heard of any significant others in her life, no."

"I see." I nod. "Well, I'd better be off. I've got a lunch appointment. Nice talking to you!" I give her a small wave and walk off.

—

"So I was thinking," Sacha is saying, "a new bag would be great, wouldn't it? Not like a petty handbag. Like, a luggage bag. I mean, my old one is all torn and stuff, right?" She pauses and glances at me. "Luke? You're not listening, are you?" She sounds hurt.

"No, no, I am," I say quickly. "You want a luggage bag, right?" I process what she said. She nods. "Well, I'll get you one." I'll show her. I'll be the best boyfriend ever.

"You'd do that for me?" Sacha says, beaming. She leans in and kisses me. "Aw, you're so cute," she says, touching my nose.

I don't know how to react so I just sit there awkwardly. "Food's getting cold," I say stiffly, gesturing at the sandwiches in front of us. Not that sandwiches were bad cold but…

I take a bit out of my sandwich and Sacha follows suite. "Mmm," she says between bites, "this is good. Hey, you know," she swallows and continues, "some journalist came to the flat today."

"Did they," I say in mock interest.

"You're one of the richest bachelors, you know that?" Sacha grins and chews her sandwich.

"I'm aware of that. Those magazines exaggerate everything, I hope you know that."

"Oh, of course I do," Sacha says dismissively. "Anyway, they asked me a few questions about you and I answered them. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," I say, taking another bite. Chew, swallow. "What sort of questions?"

"Oh, little things like hobbies and relationships."

I pause. "Relationships?"

"Yep," Sacha says cheerfully. "I told them that we're dating, of course." She looks at my expression and her face darkens. "Oh, you don't mind, do you?"

"It's alright," I say stiffly. "I just… I didn't think that our private personal relationships should be revealed to the public, you know?"

"Are you embarrassed of me?" Sacha says, turning her nose up haughtily.

"Of course not, I love you," I say kindly. "But the public can do a lot of damage to personal things. Just be careful in the future, alright, love?"

"Okay," Sacha agrees eventually.

I glance at my watch. "Shoot, I'd better go," I say absently. I put my hand in my pocket and produce a fifty note. "That'll pay nicely, won't it? Here you are. Love you, bye!" I get up and leave Sacha behind with the fifty note. I glance back and she's looking at me, shocked.

Hmm. On second thought, that might not have been the best move.


	4. Chapter 4

I slump on the leather couch, exhausted. Work all day.

With slow, sluggish movements, I bring my blackberry out of my pocket and open the mail app. I scroll down past junk mail and stupid promo letters.

I find a letter from Annabel. I automatically smile.

Annabel is my stepmother. My biological mother, Elinor Sherman, moved to New York and was never able to see me - her new boyfriend wouldn't allow it. Instead, my father married Annabel, who is by far one of the best people I know.

I press to open the email.

Dear Luke,

It's been a while since you, I, and your father have all gotten together, hasn't it? I'd love to arrange lunch sometime. How are you doing?

We're very proud of you and Brandon Communications. We hear all about it.

Email me soon!

Love,

Annabel

I smile and hit the reply button.

Annabel -

Great to hear from you. It has been a while. I'd love lunch. I'll make sure to keep noontime next Tuesday free for our lunch engagement, if that sounds alright with you.

How about Terrazza?

I'm doing great, thanks, and so is Brandon Communications. Thank you for asking.

Love,

Luke

I press send and listen to the whoosh that indicates a sent email. I check my calendar for next Tuesday, and sure enough, it's free.

I frown. Hmm, but I bet there will be work to do…

I shrug. Oh well, that just means more work to do today. I swing my feet back over the edge of the leather couch, get up, and head to my home office.

More research. The Flagstaff thing is going well so far, but I'm going to need to guarantee that nothing can go wrong.

And I've got a hunch that something might.

And until that hunch no longer exists, I can't spend a waking minute away from work.

—

The next couple of days go by without a hitch. Every morning I get up, make myself a cup of coffee, go out and buy the paper and a couple of magazines, read them, go to work or whatever press conference or trip I have to go on, come back at around 7, sometimes I walk or take the tube home, and continue working from home until way too late.

My life is basically work.

Oh, but there was that one incident with… my biological mother. She had heard, all the way from New York, via my parents, I guess, about my new public relations company. She sent me a congratulatory email.

Which was incredibly well received.

Luke:

Your father and your stepmother have informed me of your new public relations company. I will keep an eye on it. I expect much from it, so don't disappoint me.

Regards,

Elinor Sherman

Okay, so this is a bit embarrassing, but that email makes me a bit… ecstatic. My biological mother is a figure shrouded in mystery for me. I had never met her before. She's been the invisible mother who would stand there and be proud of me, I guess.

I mean, she's never actually said that outright, but I'm sure she feels it.

I know it sounds like I'm completely hung up over someone who hasn't done much in return, but that isn't true. I mean, without Elinor Sherman, I wouldn't exist now, would I?

And obviously my argument has flaws in it. I won't deny that.

But sometimes I just feel this… I don't know, but what I do know is my mother loves me.

Oh God, I'm beginning to sound like those airheads who think they're always right. That's not me, by the way. I could be wrong. There is definitely a chance that I could be wrong.

Anyway, now is not the time to think about it. Now is the time to work.

—

I arrive at Terrazza and immediately spot Annabel and my father sitting at a small table. I smile and give them a wave and both of them return with warm smiles.

"Hi Dad," I say, sitting down. "Hi, Annabel."

"Hello, Luke," Annabel says, giving me a hug. "How are you doing?"

"I'm great," I say easily. "Have you two taken a look at the menu?"

"I have," Dad says. "Seafood linguine. I've got to try that."

"Sounds…" I trail off uncertainly and glance at Annabel who's mouth is twitching.

"Great," Annabel finishes for me with a secretive smile.

"Just great," I echo, smiling back as I pick up my menu.

As we wait for our orders to come - seafood pizza and scallops for Annabel, spicy meatballs for myself, and seafood linguine for Dad - we begin to chat and catch up.

"How are you guys?" I ask between bites.

"We're doing absolutely great," Dad says enthusiastically.

"There's a Ruth Rendell book I've been meaning to get," Annabel puts in conversationally. "Do you know her, Luke?"

"No, but I'll look into that," I say.

I hear something familiar behind me but choose to ignore it. "Any books that interest you, Dad?"

"Indian recipes," Dad says, nodding with mock wisdom. "Traditional food. The kind that makes you want to jump into a bath of milk because that's how hot it is. Well, I haven't quite mastered it yet."

"That sounds…" I say, trailing off again. "Good luck, Dad."

"And what's this we hear about Brandon Communications?" Dad asks encouragingly. "Something to do with Flagstaff? Do you think we should go to Flagstaff for life insurance?"

"Well, it's going quite well actually, now that you mention it," I say earnestly. "I've been working nonstop lately. If this pitch goes well, our entire company could skyrocket and…" I trail off. Suddenly I notice a presence beside me.

Rebecca Bloomwood is standing by our table, awkwardly fidgeting and seemingly deciding whether to leave before we discover her or stay there and make conversation.

Oh, well. Too late now.

"Hi, Luke!" she says brightly. "I just thought I'd say… hello!"

I pause and frown. I glance at my parents who are looking at me with curious expressions. I look back at Rebecca. "Well, hello," I hear myself saying. "Mum, Dad, this is Rebecca Bloomwood. Rebecca—my parents."

She looks stricken. "Hello," she says with a timid smile, a lot quieter this time. "Well, I won't keep you from…"

"So how do you know Luke?" Annabel says invitingly.

"Rebecca is a leading financial journalist," I supply. I take a sip of my wine and watch as delight dawns on her face and she gives my father a confident grin.

"Financial journalist, eh?" Dad says roughly. He lowers his reading glasses to take a better look at her. "So what do _you_ think of the chancellor's announcement?"

"Well," Rebecca says confidently, desperately scanning the restaurant.

I watch her expression, my mouth twitching. This is the Alicia Billington conversation all over again. "Dad, I'm sure Rebecca doesn't want to talk shop," I say graciously, keeping Rebecca in my peripheral vision.

"Quite right!" Annabel says, smiling. "That's a lovely scarf, Rebecca. Is it Denny and George?"

"Yes, it is!" she says brightly, grateful for a new change of topic. "I was so pleased, I got it last week in the sale!"

I look at the scarf, noticing it for the first time. Denny and George? Didn't Aunt Ermintrude… Oh, right. I forgot, she must have made that up, right? I wait eagerly for what she says next, and our eyes meet and then she flicks her gaze away in horror.

"In a sale… for my aunt," Rebecca backtracks. She looks at me with a defiant gaze. "I bought it for my aunt, as a present." She pauses for dramatic effect, thinking quickly and turning her gaze to the floor. "But she… died."

A moment of silence passed. My parents look shocked and look at each other, then me, then Rebecca.

"Oh dear," Dad says gruffly.

"Aunt Ermintrude died?" I inquire politely.

"Yes," Rebecca says, looking up. "It was terribly sad."

"How awful!" Annabel says sympathetically.

"She was in the hospital, wasn't she?" I say as I pour myself a glass of water. I flick my gaze up to meet her eyes. "What was wrong with her?" I raised my eyebrows as Rebecca contemplates my question.

"It was… her leg," she says finally.

"Her leg?" Annabel echoes anxiously. "What was wrong with her leg?"

Rebecca pauses. "It… swelled up and got septic," she says finally. "And they had to amputate it and then she died."

"Christ," Dad says, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Bloody doctors." He looks up fiercely. "Did she go private?"

Rebecca is squirming under our gaze and questions. "Umm… I'm not sure," she says as she backs away, her fingers on her scarf. Hmm, it did look lovely on her. "Anyway, lovely to see you, Luke. Must dash, my friends will be missing me!" She looks anywhere but my eyes and gives a nonchalant wave and quickly walks away, clutching the edge of her skirt.

I give a small smile in her direction before turning to my parents. "Rebecca Bloomwood, ladies and gentlemen," I say with a flourish.

"She made that up, didn't she?" Dad says abruptly. "Why did she?"

"It's a long story," I say with a grin. "She really wanted that scarf but was embarrassed to say so, so instead she made up a story about Aunt Ermintrude…"

"That's quite rude of you two," Annabel scolds. "Aunt Ermintrude might not be a fictional character, and here you are, insulting her while she lays in her grave."

"Please, Annabel," Dad says, touching her arm. "It's fake."

Annabel sighs and gives in with a smile. "Talented liar, that one. Hold on to her."

"Oh, we're not… involved," I say awkwardly.

"Are you still with Sacha?" Annabel says with a disapproving air.

"I… yes." I shrug. "She's not that bad, really. She is simply into more… public things than I am. She's great, really. Intelligent…"

"Yes, let me stop you right there," Annabel says gently, cutting me off. "She is great, just not for you. Trust me. A parent has an eye for these things."

"Thanks, Annabel," I say gratefully. "I'll take that into consideration."


	5. Chapter 5

**EP:** **DISCLAIMER: PG13. (adult themes)**

God, work is so boring sometimes. I mean, it has to be done. Letters need to be sent out, arrangements need to be made, meetings need to be attended, plans need to be discussed…

My mind keeps wandering back to Rebecca and her Denny and George scarf. It did look really good on her. A smile plays at my lips just thinking about it.

Hmm, I never got around to thanking her for paying me back. A nice gesture, I guess. And for the… recycled card with poppies on it, if my memory serves me well.

I pull out a card from my desk and begin to scribble a message.

_Dear Rebecca,_

_It was good to bump into you the other night, and I do hope you had an enjoyable evening. I now realize that I never thanked you for the prompt repayment of my loan. Much appreciated._

_With all best wishes—and, of course, deepest sympathy on the loss of your Aunt Ermintrude. (If it's any consolation, I can't imagine that scarf could suit anyone better than you.)_

_Luke._

I pull out an envelope, stuff it in, seal it, scribble her address on, stick a stamp on it, and leave the flat to walk a bit to the nearest mail carrier.

As I take a walk, I bump into Alicia Billington.

"Alicia," I say warmly.

"Luke," she returns. "How are you?"

"I'm great," I answer. "Did you find out what went wrong with the figures last week?" I sigh inwardly. Of course I immediately revert to CEO mode.

"Actually no," Alicia says, biting her lip. "I'll get to that straight away," she promises.

"That would be great, thanks," I say in a colder voice.

There is a beat of silence and Alicia glances at my envelope. "Sending a letter?"

"Just a thank you note," I reply. "You?"

"This is a, um…" Alicia gestures at her envelope. I drop mine down the chute. "Just a… uh…"

"Well, I'd better get going," I sat, cutting her stammering off. "See you in the office tomorrow. And please have the information ready for me. Good day."

Alicia nods and drops her letter down the chute as well as I turn on my heel and walk away.

—

"Strategize." I give everyone in the small room a stare. Jennifer. Carl. Payton. Taylor. Cory. "We need to _sell_," I say, emphasizing the last words. "Are all you brain dead?"

Patrick clears his throat. "Perhaps… a charity party of some sort. To appeal to the upper class."

"Excellent," I say, pointing at him. I turn to the white board and uncap a red marker, writing _party - upper class. _"Anybody else got any ideas?"

"Maybe tie it to a different organization?" Sienna suggests shyly. She's rather new. "Like, some nonprofit. To attract the people who support all those… whatever they are."

"We'll have to run that by Flagstaff," I say decisively. "But it's an idea." I write it down in red as well and glance at the clock on the wall. "And… that's our time. Thanks for all your help." I put my papers back into the brown envelope as the people begin filing out of the room.

"Luke? Can I speak to you?"

I look up to see Sienna. "Sienna. How may I help you?"

"You seem very… concerned for the well being of the company," she begins, faltering slightly.

"Of course I am. I'm the CEO." I frown.

"I'm sure your position is quite stressful," she says. "But you needn't take this too seriously. We've had no hitches so far, and I don't believe there will be any."

"We can't always count on luck, can we?" I reply, my voice lowering in both pitch and volume.

"We're not relying on it," Sienna says. "But I think you're taking too much of the work. You always seem so preoccupied with this new pitch. I'm not sure it's healthy."

"I can decide what's healthy for me," I say, cutting her off shortly. "Thank you for your time, Sienna."

"I was just concerned," Sienna says worriedly.

"Don't be concerned for me," I say. I pick up my envelopes and exit the room with Sienna left in the tense atmosphere.

—

"I miss your Cambridge friends," Sacha says one day, out of the blue. "The good ol' gang. You guys were so tight, and all of you heading to paths of success. Are you still in touch with them?"

"No," I say, tapping away at my Blackberry. I was finalizing some business meeting schedule and honestly what I wanted right now was wine and for Sacha to stop talking just for a small moment while I finished up the email.

"That's a shame," she continues. "Remember them? Remember Tom? What was he, a doctor?"

"Something like that," I say carelessly, pressing send. Actually, he was neuroscientist and currently doing research on Alzheimer's, but Sacha didn't need or want to know that.

"And Venetia," she says with sudden passion. "And Jake! Man, I really do miss them."

"So do I," I hear myself saying in a strangled voice. I switch off my Blackberry and give Sacha my full attention.

"You do?" Sacha says, a bit surprised.

"Of course I do," I say, frowning slightly. "They were my friends."

"Well, I suppose…" Sacha trails off. "Goodness, Luke, do you actually have _feelings?_"

"I have feelings," I say indignantly. "Need I remind you that we're dating, Sacha?"

"Touché," she says, grinning. "No, but seriously. Your life isn't all work. Now that is a true surprise."

"I'm offended," I say, pretending to be hurt.

"Aw, Lukie," she says, reaching over the ruffle my hair. "Gosh, you are adorable."

"I am," I agree, inwardly flinching at the terrible nickname. I pull her in for a quick kiss. "I love you, Sacha."

She stares into my eyes for a couple of seconds and my eyebrows furrow. "Is there something on my face?"

"No," she says in a strangled voice. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Her voice is lowered in both pitch and volume and her gaze changes a bit.

I raise my eyebrows. "Bedroom?"

"Bedroom," she confirms, grabbing my tie and dragging my to my bedroom.

—

On Saturday I decide to take a well deserved day off. As much as I hate the way Sienna puts it, she's right. I am a bit… work-obsessed. Workaholic. Something like that. Anyway, Sacha's with me so I might as well take a day off to treat her well

I take a walk down to Costa's and get Sacha and myself a cappuccino. "Any plans for today?" I ask as I sip the coffee and wince as it scalds my tongue.

"All yours," Sacha says, grabbing my hand. "We should drive somewhere. Do something on our own. You know?"

"Oh, well that sounds nice," I say, a bit worried about the lack of internet. I wouldn't be able to receive any work notifications or news if—

Focus, Luke. Good boyfriend. Come on. I look up with a smile. "Let's do it." I squeeze her hand and lead her back to my flat where my Honda is parked on the driveway. "Where to?"

"Anywhere."

We take a drive northwest and end up in some place I have never been to before. The scenery was… nice. "This place is cute," I comment as I park the car in what I hope is a legal parking spot.

"It is," Sacha murmurs. "Hey, I brought some food."

"That's great," I say. "Anything else?"

"Wine," she says, more animated.

"That it?" I ask absently, reaching into my pocket to check my Blackberry.

She hesitates. "Condoms."

I stop. "Well…" I look at her. "There's a thought." I kiss her. "Let me just…" I pull out my phone and check for notifications. There are none. I slip it away in my pocket and turn back to her. "Done. Out of the way for the rest of the day."

Sacha stares at me. "God, your eyes are gorgeous," she says, taking my hand.

"So I've been told," I tease before kissing her again.

And soon we're against the car window, heating up and syncing with each other. I feel a vibration in my front pocket and Sacha pulls back.

"That soon?"

I frown. "No, sorry," I say. "My phone. It's… I'm really sorry." I pull out my Blackberry, internally yelling at whoever was calling me. I was about to make it into the acceptable boyfriends league. Come on.

I get out of the car and lean against it. I press the green button and wait.

"Luke!" says Cory into my ear. I flinch.

"Cory?"

"Luke, there's a slight… predicament at the office," Cory says worriedly. In the background I hear voices. "It seems as if there is a…" he hesitates and seems to gage the situation. "…Office fight of some sort?"

"I'll be right down," I say. I hang up and open the car door where Sacha looks at me with red cheeks. "I am so, so sorry Sacha," I begin apologizing. "There's an emergency at the office. I have to go."

She frowns. "Can't someone else take care of it for once?" she asks desperately.

"I…" I hesitate. It's true, I suppose other people could handle an office fight.

Sacha narrowed her eyes. "You're just looking for excuses to leave and get back to work, aren't you?" she accuses.

"No, I'm not," I say defensively. "I swear I'm not. Look, you can come with me if you'd like to, alright? I really need to be there. I'm the CEO, for Christ's sake."

"Fine," Sacha says frostily. "I'll go with you. And maybe I'll hook up with one of your employee's while I'm at it."

"God, it's not like that," I says frustratingly as I start the car. "Seriously, it is a work emergency I need to be there for, okay?"

"So you wouldn't care if I hooked up with someone else?" Sacha says angrily.

"Oh, knock yourself out," I say carelessly. I was not in the mood to argue.

The rest of the ride is in complete silence.


End file.
